


The Weight of Things

by Lautari



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Family Loss, Father-Son Relationship, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:27:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23353192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lautari/pseuds/Lautari
Summary: "Thranduil watched his father die when he was not much older than you. He saw his home fall to destruction when he was younger than you. He was born into war and has sacrificed much of his own happiness for others." Elrond paused, wondering how much he should tell, how much the young prince knew. "He has borne hardship that I am not permitted to give voice to. Immortality is a heavy weight."
Relationships: Elrond Peredhel & Thranduil, Legolas Greenleaf & Thranduil
Kudos: 49





	The Weight of Things

_I love the subtle character development of Thranduil in the Hobbit trilogy. This will be a collection of snippets that I have jotted down the last few years to flesh out his character more. Be warned, the timeline and canon aren’t exact. Some of this I wrote before BOTFA and I didn't change it and I only know a skimmed over version of the history of Middle Earth._

00000

" _Tolo ar nin, Ionneg" – Come with me, my son._

" _Ai! Mae l'ovannen! Le nathlam hi" – Hail. You are well met. You are welcome here._

" _Iston i nif lin" – I know your face._

" _Man cerig? Tolo!" – What are you doing? Come!_

" _Am man?" – Why?_

" _Avon!" – No!_

" _Hir vuin" – My lord._

00000

**_During the events of Lord of the Rings, Third Age – Rivendell_ **

Even the peace of Rivendell couldn't chase away the darkness that lingered at the edge of the mind when night fell. Frodo found himself slipping away from the other hobbits when their breathing had finally evened out and Sam's snores could mask his soft footsteps down the corridor. Somehow he found himself in the courtyard where the meeting had been held earlier that day. He gazed up at the sky as he so often had done back home, before the weight of the world was on his shoulders. He gingerly rubbed his still tender shoulder and once again marveled at the healing skills of the Elven.

"Your wound, it's still fresh," a voice said from behind him.

Frodo spun around and bowed his head when he saw the blond elf. "I'm sorry," he stammered. "I didn't know there was someone here."

Legolas was sitting cross legged on the stone table that Frodo had laid the ring upon. His eyes didn't leave the night sky, but he smiled. "You do not disturb me."

Frodo cocked his head and stepped closer. "How do you know about my wound?"

"Everyone in Rivendell knows about the hobbit that survived the Witch-king."

"You are not of Rivendell."

"I am not."

"Nor Lorien." Frodo knew little about the young elf that had volunteered his bow for their quest. Aragorn trusted him though, he could tell that there was a long friendship between the two. Gandalf also held him in high regard.

"No? How can you tell?"

Frodo shrugged. He didn't want to say that he found him…heavier, almost darker than others of his kind. "Your eyes are very distinct."

"I'm of the Sindar."

"A Grey Elf of the Twilight," Frodo mused. When he received no affirmation from the elf, he cocked his head and said, "You never completely answered my question. How do you know about my wound?"

For the first time Legolas broke his gaze away from the night sky and met Frodo's. There was sadness in his eyes, and maybe sympathy as well. "Greenwood the Great doesn't have the protection of the Misty Mountains or Rings of Power," he said somewhat bitterly. "I have seen wounds from creatures of darkness before."

"Will it ever completely heal?"

"No," the elf said gently. "It will linger."

Frodo must have physically shuddered, because the elf stretched his legs and lowered himself to his feet and gripped his good shoulder. "Don't fret, Master Hobbit. Those who survive the darkness of the Shadow are strong in spirit and mind. You are in good company."

00000

It was in the grey morning hours before the dawn when the fellowship began stirring to begin their quest. Legolas, Aragorn, and Elrond had been awake through the night pouring over maps. "I wish you would reconsider," Elrond murmured to Legolas as he rolled up one of the parchments.

The younger elf frowned. "I would be an asset."

"I am not questioning your skills."

Legolas avoided his gaze. "My father's wishes are outweighed by the fate of Middle Earth hanging in the balance."

"I don't think Thranduil will see it that way," Elrond said wryly. "I understand, Legolas. But I am obligated to try and sway you." He gripped his arm warmly. "Your family has lost enough. You're the only heir."

"I'm the grandson of Oropher and the son of Thranduil," Legolas snapped defiantly, reminding Elrond that, yes, he certainly was Thranduil's child. "I would be ashamed not to continue to protect our world from the Shadow."

00000

**_Fifty years before the events in The Hobbit, Third Age - Mirkwood_ **

"Lord Elrond and his company approaches!" Legolas shouted distantly from the treetops.

"I am aware," Thranduil replied brushing leaves off his shoulder that had been shaken loose by his son leaping from branch to branch. He barely looked up before moving through the Gate and onto the age old path to the forest _. "Tolo ar nin, Ionneg."_

The prince dropped beside him barely making a sound and joined him just as the visitors came into sight in the darkness of the forest. Thranduil raised a hand in greeting. _"Ai! Mae l'ovannen! Le nathlam hi."_

Elrond smiled when he reached them and clapped Thranduil's shoulder. _"Mae l'ovannen."_ He turned to Legolas. "You are quick footed, young prince," he said wryly. "You followed us in the treetops and still beat us to your father's side."

Thranduil eye's narrowed. "Silvan influence."

Elrond smirked. "I seem to remember another young prince that lacked decorum. A little Silvan influence never hurt anybody."

Thranduil cocked his head in warning at Elrond's teasing and his eyes became slits.

Legolas cast an amused sideways glance to the diminutive form to his left and Elrond started when he saw her. He cast a questioning glance at Thranduil, but the Elvenking avoided his eyes so he turned to address her _. "Iston i nif lin."_

She was caught off guard but lowered her head reverently _. "Im Tauriel."_

"I knew your mother."

Tauriel's eyes brightened with many questions but she said nothing more and Elrond offered no more. It was not his story to tell. The trees were not the only things to hold secrets in Mirkwood apparently. Desperate to change the subject, Thranduil's gaze fell upon the tall human that stood quietly behind Elrond. "A human has not entered this realm in close to an Age." He turned his attention back to his old friend. "But this is no ordinary human is it?"

Elrond raised his chin defiantly. "He is my charge."

Confused, Legolas watched the two stare each other down until his father sighed. "Come," Thranduil said after a moment. "We have wine and food."

00000

"You always know how to entertain guests," Elrond said appreciatively before taking a long sip of wine. He and Thranduil sat alone upon the dais in the great hall while their people enjoyed each other's company in the glow of the fires and torches. Legolas' plate sat untouched at his father's right hand while he mingled with the Rivendell folk. He had been disappointed by neither of Elrond's sons being in the travelling company but had quickly joined in the merriment.

"We don't receive many guests anymore," Thranduil said leaning back in his seat. "Milia was the gracious one."

The absence of MIrkwood's queen was felt as soon as Elrond had seen Thranduil waiting with only his son at his side. She had been gone for nearly three millenia, but in the life of the Elven, it had only been a mere season. His own Celebrian had taken the sea to Valinor much more recently, but whereas he had bid his wife farewell at the Havens with the promise of seeing her again, Thranduil had hopelessly watched his own slip away.

"She is missed," Elrond murmured. "It is a joy to see so much of her in Legolas."

Thranduil swallowed and looked for his son in the crowd and tensed when he saw him with Elrond's foster son. They were in deep conversation over daggers apparently and kept exchanging and admiring the balance and workmanship in the other's weapons. "Legolas!" The young elf's head shot up _. "Man cerig? Tolo!"_

Legolas had not yet mastered hiding embarrassment and his face burned red while moving through the crowd to his father. Thranduil leaned close to his son though he spoke in a tone loud enough to carry to the human. "I do not wish you to speak to him. You keep your distance; do you understand me?"

Legolas frowned. _"Am man?"_

"Because I say so."

That was no longer good enough for the young elfling. He shook his head. _"Avon!"_

The human had heard the confrontation and approached the dais in an attempt to diffuse the situation. _"Hir vuin,"_ he spoke before Thranduil could grab for Legolas. _"Im Aragorn –"_

"I know who you are," Thranduil hissed before he could finish. "Aragorn of the Dunedain. You have Elendil's eyes." His eyes narrowed. "And Isildur's swagger."

Aragorn stiffened. "You know nothing about me."

Elrond bade him be silent, but it was too late.

"This is what I know," Thranduil growled, banging his fist on the table before standing to be nose to nose to the young man. "I fought in the final battle at Dagorlad. I fought for Elendil, and he and Gil-galad and my father gave their lives. I lost my father and Isildur pissed on those sacrifices. I don't need to know anything else about his heir." He straightened. "I bid you goodnight."

00000

"I thought I might find you here."

Legolas did not move. His light blue eyes scanned the stars intently. "Climbing trees does not suit the Lord Elrond."

"Nor does sulking become the Prince of Mirkwood."

"I don't sulk."

"You and your father both sulk."

Legolas grimaced at mention of his father.

The older lord sighed. "He has not always been so hard."

"Why do you defend him?"

Elrond emerged fully from the darkness of the tree canopy and pulled himself up to perch next to the younger elf. "Because he is worth defending. Thranduil is one of the most honorable beings I know."

Legolas seemed to contemplate his words. "I know this," he said after a moment. "He thinks highly of you too, you know. He does not give favor easily."

"That makes it worth more," Elrond said. "Thranduil can be hard to read, but he does not walk in the gray areas that others do. When he gives his word or gives favor, there is none more loyal. And if that favor is lost, it is not easily regained. I don't pretend to understand everything he does, but he is a just king. And fierce. He will protect what is his."

"Was that what he was doing tonight?"

"Aragorn will face greater enemies than Thranduil. If he is to be what he was born to be then he will have to overcome more than insults."

"So he should blame Aragorn for Isildur's weakness?"

"Not at all. Nor does he, truly," Elrond assured him. "But Thranduil watched his father die when he was not much older than you. He saw his home fall to destruction when he was younger than you. He was born into war and has sacrificed much of his own happiness for others." He paused, wondering how much he should tell, how much the young prince knew. "He has borne hardship that I am not permitted to give voice to. Immortality is a heavy weight."

"You carry it well."

"Do not compare us," Elrond scolded. "We are very different."

Legolas looked down somewhat shamefully.

"It has not been that long since you both lost Milia," Elrond continued gently. "I understand…"

"No you don't," Legolas snapped, breaking his gaze away from the sky for the first time. "Your wife survived. My mother died in my father's arms on the banks of the Anduin."

Now it was Elrond's turn to look ashamed, but he was firm in his rebuttal. "I remember. And I'm sorry I could not save her, but I am not sorry for my wife surviving. Milia wouldn't be either. I can understand your pain, but do not judge your father so harshly when you yourself still struggle with placing blame."

00000

Thranduil's chambers were high in the caverns with windows carved to the outside. He had fashioned them after his father's rooms in Doriath where he would perch as a child and watch his father work, or his mother brush her hair. After he took his father's place and marched the remnant of their people into Mirkwood, he could still be caught in unguarded moments with his legs stretched in front of him watching the night sky. He held his son there when he was small and point out constellations to him and tell stories of old.

"You and your son have very similar methods of sulking."

Thranduil glared at him over the rim of his goblet. "I do not watch the sky much anymore."

Elrond poured himself his own wine and joined him. Screeches and howls could be heard in the dense forest below. He had forgotten how far removed Rivendell was from the darkness of the East on the other side of the Misty Mountains. "The forest is growing restless."

"It's growing dark." Thranduil's far seeing gaze pierced the night. Legolas's gift of sight did not just come from his mother. "And it's familiar…the darkness," he remarked in a troubled tone. "There is something brewing in the East."

"Let's not speak of such dark things tonight," Elrond said raising his glass. "You watch the East so much that you forget to take joy at what is in front of you."

Thranduil glared at him again but raised his glass begrudgingly and clinked it against Elrond's. Knowing his son was the one thing Thranduil truly took joy in, he said, "Legolas has become quite a skilled warrior."

"You expected less?" Thranduil asked with a twinkle in his eye. He nodded towards the forest below. "He prefers the world. The sun, the openness in the treetops."

"That's where I found him earlier."

Thranduil did not act surprised. "His mother would do that when we would fight." He swallowed. "He's needed her."

Elrond swallowed the lump in his throat thinking of his own children, his daughter, without Celebrian. But Legolas was right. His wife had not died on the banks of a river. And whereas his children had their kin in Lorien, Thranduil and Legolas were all each other had. "You know Galadriel asks after Legolas."

Thranduil looked pointedly into his goblet.

"Your stubbornness will be your undoing," Elrond snapped exasperatedly. "You and Celeborn need to make peace. Milia would be ashamed."

"Do not speak to me of my wife. Not in the chambers we once shared."

Elrond raised his chin defiantly. "Eleniel would be too."

 _That_ got the reaction Elrond was hoping for.

Thranduil shot to his feet and threw his goblet on the ground where it shattered. "You will not speak her name again!"

"You have got to let _go._ " Elrond stood and was nose to nose with his friend. "I don't know what has happened to you."

Thranduil turned away. "You know exactly what happened."

Elrond pursed his lips. "Aye. You lost your mother, home, father, best friend, wife, your love….."

" _Stop."_

"But in spite of it, you have all this," he said waving his goblet around the room. "You have been loved by two of the most beautiful and kind creatures to ever walk among us."

"I said stop," Thranduil hissed turning away from him.

"And you have a son," Elrond finished. "Who-"

"I know my son," Thranduil interrupted. "And I intend to protect him from everything in this world. He has too much of his mother in him."

"I saw him openly defy you earlier," Elrond mused. "That was not Milia."

Thranduil turned back around and frowned at his old friend but said nothing as he brushed past to retrieve another goblet. Elrond looked down and swirled the wine in his own glass. "You...you never told me about _her_ daughter."

"I am tired, my friend," Thranduil said abruptly. "Shall I see you to your quarters?"

Elrond nodded in acquiescence, giving up the subject for the time being. "No, I can find my way back." He raised his glass. "Thank you for the drink."


End file.
